Officially Twelve

• Storm Fitzpatrick, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2019

It started with laughing. We were on the couch talking about boys like usual. This was it, just us now. The new house smelt of the flowers that our new neighbours had given us earlier that day. We planned on going out that day, for dinner. We went to the bedroom to get ready. Bronte was putting her makeup on while I struggled to contain my long, thick hair. We were just talking about the house, when there was a knock at the door.
As I walked to the door warily. Two young looking men stood there. I smiled and there was a moment of awkwardness. I simply asked this, ‘Can I help you?’ then Bronte came to the door nearly as surprised as I was. There was a telepathic communication and then…
Whoah! What a daydream! Yeah right. We were in class listening to some relief teacher blab on about absolutely nothing. We passed notes occasionally making sure we were not going to be caught. We were waiting for the bell so I could spend the day with Bronte for her 12th birthday. We had been planning it all day.
The bell finally went and I do not think we could have got up any quicker. We jumped around excitedly. We got off the bus talking about how my birthday was going to be awesome and she was invited, she was older than me, not that you would think so. Her small skinny figure was nothing compared to my large curvy body. We were late bloomers, but nothing mattered, not even boys. We were not like other 11 year olds. Now we were changing. Bronte was 12, and I nearly was too. We dreaded grade 7.
The party was awesome… I was full after eating so much cake, though the party was not over. We watched a movie, played games, then fell fast asleep. I dreamt of happily ever after. That our friendship would never end. I woke up to the sunrays falling on my face. Bronte was gone; there was a note to say that she would miss me. I was confused I walked out to mum on the couch waiting. I asked where everyone was. She told me that we could talk on the car ride home.
She said that they were on a plane to somewhere across the other side of the world. My eyes stung while tears burst out. I told mum to stop the car. I spewed on the dry grass. We drove off again. When we arrived home. There was a message on my phone that read, I am sorry. Bye.
I went to my room. I threw my phone at the wall hearing it shatter. I slept. Nothing to wake me up. I heard a car pull up, ignoring it. Bronte laid down next to me. I looked over. She smiled at me. I squealed and wrapped my arms around her. She said she’d stayed. She had missed me before she left.